Side Effects
by Chibizoo
Summary: Unable to tear apart from his past, convinced that he is alone, Malik seeks death as a final means of release. Yet, when life is twisted, when one is granted redemption, the control of such things is left to those who care. [A b-day fic for Sailor Comet]


Author's Notes:  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-gi-oh!  
  
Sam-chan needed a birthday fic. Zoo needed to write a birthday fic. Thus, by the unforeseen predicament of all things (un)holy, this ficlet was born. Happy belated birthday Sam-chan!  
  
Warnings: Fluffiness (x.X), mild violence  
  
*************************************************  
  
Side Effects  
  
"You did it. you did it."  
  
Bodies crawling on all sides of him half-veiled by violet cloaks. Milk-white eyes frothed, glowing against the stark darkness.  
  
He screamed as a pair of hands grabbed his ankles, heart pounding, cold sweat collecting on his temples. The ground beneath him was parting, forming a crevice filled with layer upon layer of struggling, grabbling hands and zombie-possessed faces.  
  
They clawed at him, ripping off his clothing, spindly fingernails gouging deeply into his flesh.  
  
"No!" He screamed despite the onslaught of hands, despite the moaning faces. "I didn't do it! It wasn't me! I-"  
  
************************************************  
  
Malik sat up from the bed. He was still breathing heavily, trembling hands clutching the blanket fabrics so tightly that the bony whites of his knuckles gleamed in the darkness.  
  
He jerked his head, glancing warily at the clock. Two AM. It was still early.  
  
Almost involuntarily, he felt his face, his arms, checking for gouges or scars. Nothing, save the warm, slightly sticky texture of his sweat- ridden skin.  
  
The stifling warmth of the room was overwhelming him. He brusquely tossed the bedcovers to one side, feet making their way across the room, stumbling slightly in the darkness. A gentle flicker of sound and the room was bathed in a reassuring light; allowing the blonde-haired Egyptian to grab an overcoat and don it quickly over his bare shoulders.  
Mere seconds later, he snuck, a solitary shadow, into the moonlight night of abandoned street and buildings.  
  
**********************************************  
  
Ring. Ring.  
  
Ryou muttered something incoherently in his sleep and turned over.  
  
Ring. Ring.  
  
The white-haired boy reluctantly fluttered his eyes open, rubbing them slightly as the phone rang again. Stifling a yawn, he made his way across the room, pausing just once to recover from stumbling on his ground-strewn clothing.  
  
"Moshi moshi [1]." Ryou muttered sleepily into the receiver in a half- murmur. "This is the Bakura residence. How may I help you?"  
  
There was a moment of static, and then the obvious sound of someone breathing heavily onto the other end of the receiver. "Ryou, this is Malik."  
  
Ryou blinked, bewildered. "Malik? Why are you phoning me at-" he paused to glance at the digital clock- "two in the morning?"  
  
A pause. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you." For some reason, the blonde-haired Egyptian sounded resigned.  
  
"No, its okay!" Ryou shook his head politely, despite the fact that Malik could not see him. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Malik's tone of voice immediately changed from tentative to bitter and cynical, "how about my _entire_ life? Can you tell me why the hell I keep on having the SAME nightmares over and over, or why people keep on treating me nice despite what I've done, or perhaps the varying levels of PITY I see seeping from everyone?"  
  
If the white-haired boy had been expecting anything, it was not this. Isis had warned him that Malik was still a bit 'unstable' after the events of Battle City. Yet, there was the second question: Why was Malik phoning _him_ out of all people?  
  
"So," Ryou was hesitant to make a conclusion, "you don't want people feeling sorry for you?"  
  
Malik made a noise that sounded oddly like a cross between a gargle and a scream. There was a moment where Ryou could hear the blonde-haired Egyptian calming himself. "You know what? Forget it."  
  
"No!" Ryou was earnestly concerned by now, clutching the receiver tightly. "Listen. Where are you? I'll come over and-"  
  
"- Forget it. I never phoned you."  
  
Ryou was still scrabbling for a decent reply when he suddenly heard the phone click on the other end. Silence, and then the loud wail of the dial tone.  
  
The white-haired boy grabbed his jacket almost immediately before rushing out of the apartment towards the elevator.  
  
***************************************************  
  
Why _had_ he phoned Ryou? Was it because the white-haired boy's phone number had been easier to remember than the others? Or was there a deeper, more sublime meaning; possibly a close kinship with Ryou?  
  
Malik snorted. He had just over-reacted, seeking assistance for his personal problems like a snivelling infant.  
  
The blonde-haired Egyptian wrapped his coat tighter around him. He couldn't help but shudder.  
  
But it wasn't that, was it? It wasn't the fact that he needed help. The attempts at suicide, the lethargic onslaughts and depression therapy; they really did not mean anything. He did not need _anyone's_ help; he did not need anyone's kindness, caring, or sympathy.  
  
And pity. Malik sneered. He hated watching the reproachful faces of those he once-trusted, staring slowly at him as if he were contaminated.  
  
Yes, dirty. He was dirty. Dirty dirty dirty and everyone knew it.  
  
He grimaced and clenched his fists. It wasn't fair; he wanted to be free from his destiny, he wanted a _normal_ life. And yet, he could never escape it, never forget the haunting memories of the past, the faces of those _he_ killed so gleefully in his vengeful pursuit of something now meaningless.  
  
What was the meaning of life? What was his meaning in life?  
  
For sure, as he half-jogged in the streetlamp-filtered pavement, he felt as if he really did not have a purpose. A hindrance. An antagonist stuck between repentance and damnation.  
  
Something bright was coming towards him. Malik stopped, blinking owlishly. For a moment, he thought that his world was finally coming to an end; that God had finally come to smite him or whisk him into the Hell waiting for him.  
  
The blare of a horn crudely tore apart his illusion. The blonde- Egyptian found himself staring deer-like at the twin lights of an oncoming car.  
  
He could have run; he was more than fast enough for the sluggish pace of the car, most likely piloted by half-drunk teenagers.  
  
But wouldn't it be wonderful if he stayed where he was? Wouldn't it be an adventure, a _thrill_ to know something was happening, to know how to avoid it, but not do it? He would be defying the laws of survival!  
  
The car horn blared one more time. There was a screeching of tires, the smell of burning rubber.  
  
And then the sensation of being struck by a wall. Pure agony lanced up his body, ricocheting across his skull, creating dazzling starbursts in his vision.  
  
And then nothing. It was bliss.  
  
************************************  
  
"No." Isis's tired eyes bore a look of telltale concern. "Malik's not home. I heard him leave about an hour ago."  
  
"Thanks anyway." Ryou bowed politely. "I'll go look for him then." The white-haired boy immediately turned away. He didn't want to see the look on Isis's face.  
  
Where was Malik? The blonde-haired Egyptian couldn't have gone far - at least, not that far on foot. Malik's motorcycle was still parked on the curb.  
  
There was a sudden wail of sirens. A pair of ambulance vans passed by the white-haired boy, their mournful cries still ringing in his ears.  
  
But the sound was not fading away. The two ambulance vans had stopped; someone had burst out from the doors; people were rushing to move a stretcher into place.  
  
Ryou immediately started running. He shook his head, trying to clear the trepidation fogging his imagination. It couldn't be Malik, it wasn't Malik, please don't let it be Malik-  
  
The white-haired boy stopped, breathing heavily, gazing at the scene of the accident. There was blood spilt in a messy pool on the firm cement ground, trickling outwards in spindly tendrils. There were people muttering to each other, and someone holding a notepad furiously scribbling something down.  
  
Ryou caught a snatch of blonde-hair and tanned skin, wrapped in a crisp white blanket, just before the ambulance van doors closed.  
  
********************************************  
  
The white-haired boy adjusted the bouquet of flowers slung over one of his shoulders. He nodded to the nurse in the front desk. "Hi. I'm here to visit Mr. Ishtar?"  
  
"Right. This way please." The nurse scribbled something down on a piece of paper before gesturing Ryou to follow her.  
  
The pair made their way across several halls and towards the elevator. Both filed inside the open elevator doors without a noise.  
  
"Mr. Ishtar is in room five-oh-three." the nurse nodded politely. "He is recovering quite rapidly, though he does suffer from a bad concussion and inflammation of the brain."  
  
Ryou briefly wondered if that was possible. The elevator door clicked open, the nurse gestured for him to leave, and he was out, walking slowly down the linoleum-covered hallway, bright florescent lights buzzing overhead.  
  
He stopped at the right room, knocking gently against the door before turning the doorknob.  
  
There was Malik, strapped to a bed, covered in bandages and shining, glistening tubes. The blonde-haired Egyptian was gratefully awake, though half his hair had been shaved to accommodate a set of crude stitches running from his jaw to his left temple. Ryou couldn't help but stare.  
  
Malik chuckled, then grimaced. "I know. It looks awful, doesn't it?" The blonde-haired Egyptian shrugged and turned his gaze back towards the open window. A clear sapphire sky and bustling city-strewn scape stared back.  
  
"Oh," Ryou cleared his throat nervously, "I -uh - brought you these." He gently placed the flowers on the counter, some of the petals spilling onto the floor.  
  
The blonde-haired Egyptian did not even look at them.  
  
Ryou waited, fidgeting slightly, feeling both stupid and awkward. At last, he broke the tension. "Look. I wanted to come and see how you're-"  
  
-"Is it nice outside?"  
  
The white-haired boy was taken back by the other's sudden interruption. He blinked a few times, flustered. "Nice? Yeah, I guess. A bit warm."  
  
Malik stared at the blue skies almost wistfully. "The doctor says that I can't leave until a couple weeks later, but I'd love to go outside. It's not fun being trapped here."  
  
Ryou couldn't believe where the conversation was heading. Was Malik making a desperate effort to try and forget things, or was this just the calm before the storm? Ryou half-expected the other to explode anytime in a flurry of barely contained hatred and self-respite.  
  
Malik did nothing but stare at the window, the same wistful, almost dreamy expression smitten on his face.  
  
"Uhm," Ryou tried again, "you okay, Malik?"  
  
The blonde-haired Egyptian cocked his head to one side. "Malik? Is that my name?" He leaned over towards Ryou eagerly, like a child waiting to open his birthday present. "Can you tell me anything else about myself? My last name? If I have any brothers or sisters?"  
  
And then it hit Ryou. He opened his mouth but could not speak.  
  
The nurse had warned him about Malik's head injuries.  
  
********************************************  
  
A nurse helped open the door from the lobby towards the outdoors. Jagged snarls of wire gating barred any patient from leaving the hospital sanctuary.  
  
Ryou pushed Malik out the door, careful to grip the handles of the blonde-haired Egyptian's wheelchair tightly. He struggled a bit pushing Malik uphill on the grassy slope, panting heavily as the pair of them got to the top.  
  
Malik craned his neck, staring awestruck at the sapphire-blue sky. He half-closed his lustrous violet eyes, letting the wind clasp his neck and tease strands of his unkept hair.  
  
Like a silent statue, Ryou simply waited, unsure of what to say.  
  
"That's a plane, right?"  
  
Ryou blinked. The blonde-haired Egyptian was pointing excitedly to a sliver of silver in the sky, one that left behind a streak of white smoke in its wake.  
  
"Yeah." the white-haired boy nodded, gazing mutely at the airplane's ambling flight. "It's probably heading towards somewhere nice."  
  
"I'd like to go somewhere nice too." Malik's eyes clouded in momentary disturbance. "The nurses are nice and everything, but staying inside the room all the time makes me feel trapped. What I'd really like to do is to go somewhere where I can run as fast as possible and be free."  
  
Ryou caught the flicker of Malik's old obsession for fast things, like his motorcycle. The white-haired boy had always thought it was because of Malik's innate desire to escape from his burdens and troubles. Yet, what burdens did an amnesiac have?  
  
"Your name is Ryou right?"  
  
The white-haired boy nodded.  
  
"And yesterday, Yuugi, Anzu, Jounochi, Honda, and Otogi visited me." Malik forced out the names with some difficulty before frowning. "Jounochi seemed angry at me. But I didn't do anything did I?" There was a clearly anxious tone in his voice.  
  
Ryou shook his head, swallowing a lump in his throat. "No. Jounochi- Jounochi is just like that. He gets angry at nothing sometimes."  
  
"Oh." Malik seemed deep in thought, troubled. "Yuugi seemed pretty upset too, but he's good at hiding it. In fact, all of them seemed a bit sad, if not angry."  
  
"Yeah," Ryou muttered reflexively, "people are sometimes like that."  
  
"But I didn't _do_ anything!" Malik shook his head angrily, frustrated. "Why are they upset at me if I didn't do anything?"  
  
Ryou opened his mouth, ready make up an excuse, when he caught the absolutely miserable look on Malik's face. The blonde-haired Egyptian stared at him with wide, pleading eyes, lips trembling, eyebrows furrowed with worry.  
  
"Something happened to me, didn't it?"  
  
The inevitable question.  
  
Malik pressed on. "This isn't right. I can feel it. I don't remember something. Something _important_."  
  
Ryou said nothing.  
  
"But you know right?" Malik locked gazes with Ryou, eyes hopeful. "What are they hiding about me? Why are they staring at me like that?"  
  
"Sorry. I really don't know." It hurt Ryou to force out such a lie, but it honestly was for Malik's own good. To not be haunted by the memories of the past, to see Malik's expression of pure, untainted joy or delight in just gazing at a the sky, was more than enough for the sin Ryou was committing.  
  
Malik shook his head furiously, tubes and bandages rustling slightly at the sudden movement. "No! You're lying! I can see it! You're hiding something!"  
  
'But don't you see?', Ryou wanted to say, 'you don't understand how much the past had hurt you. You have a new chance; a new life. You can be free.'  
  
"Tell me! Tell me!" The blonde-haired Egyptian continued his mantra, throwing a very childish tantrum.  
  
The white-haired boy again said nothing. Several seconds passed before Malik finally gave up and fell into silence. The blonde-haired Egyptian was leaning to one side of the wheelchair, back arched uncomfortably.  
  
Gently, Ryou eased by the exhausted patient and kneeled down, allowing Malik to prop his head on the white-haired boy's shoulder. Ryou gently raised a hand, stroking the blonde-haired Egyptian's hair, murmuring reassuring words.  
  
Something wet splattered at the base of his neck. The white-haired boy moved his head just slightly to catch the glimmer of tears decorating pure violet-hued eyes.  
  
More tears began to drip and fall, collecting into a darkened wet mass on Ryou's t-shirt.  
  
Ryou said nothing but he involuntarily clutched Malik tighter with his free arm.  
  
Owari  
  
********************************************************  
  
End notes:  
  
[1] 'Moshi moshi' is the standard 'hello' in Japanese when you receive a phone call.  
  
Okay, so I lied. There really was just one sentence of fluff. Neh *shrugs* 


End file.
